Knock, Knock. Who's there? Salt n Pepa. Oh right, the door's not locked. Just push it..... Push it real good!
Have a nice day... And a lovely weekend! x
Friday, 29 June 2012
A Quick Joke (But Only Us 'Oldies' Will Get It)
Knock, Knock. Who's there? Salt n Pepa. Oh right, the door's not locked. Just push it..... Push it real good!
GOOD NEWS! This Is Huge...
The BMA are kickin' ass...
http://diaryofabenefitscrounger.blogspot.co.uk/2012/06/bma-demand-immediate-end-to-wcas.html?spref=fb
And this is a previous article from Journalist, Sonia Poulton that has resurfaced today in light of the BMA vote. There is some real hope here within the disabled community... Things, they are a changing. AT LAST!
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-2149854/Oh-dear-Dave-Now-GPs-turned-Time-exit-strategy-disabled-perhaps.html?fb_action_ids=10151224535668976&fb_action_types=og.likes&fb_source=other_multiline
http://diaryofabenefitscrounger.blogspot.co.uk/2012/06/bma-demand-immediate-end-to-wcas.html?spref=fb
And this is a previous article from Journalist, Sonia Poulton that has resurfaced today in light of the BMA vote. There is some real hope here within the disabled community... Things, they are a changing. AT LAST!
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/debate/article-2149854/Oh-dear-Dave-Now-GPs-turned-Time-exit-strategy-disabled-perhaps.html?fb_action_ids=10151224535668976&fb_action_types=og.likes&fb_source=other_multiline
Thursday, 28 June 2012
One Less 'Ologist' And More Soggy Cricket
'OUCH' is the word of the day! No, it's 'BLOODY OUCH'! (Just quickly changing the subject, I have just walked all over this house looking for my big brew mug... with it right there in my hand! For the love of god!!!!) Anyway, where were we? Oh yes! Pain! It hurts doesn't it? I try when I can not to reach for the pain killers, I know the more I take the less effective they will become and before I know it I'll be shooting up morphine and jonesing for my next fix. I don't want to be that person, so I try other ways to relieve my pain before I start popping the pills. Relaxation techniques, wheat bags, oils, tens machine, rubbing in gels, hot showers, crying, banging my head against the wall (That makes a new pain to take your mind off the other one) Some work, some don't, but I do have a trigger pain, one I know when it is time to hit the hard stuff. It is the most intense stabbing, sharp, burning, stinging pain in my right shoulder. I have had it for years, it has been investigated and no one can tell me what it is. One Doctor went as far as saying it may be to do with an old whiplash injury, and did acupuncture on it... Short, sweet and useless!
I do hope this isn't making me sound like a moaning minnie???
When this pain comes, I also know it is time to stop. It means I have been doing too much and a big crash is coming. Now a 'crash' can last anywhere from 3 or 4 days to 3 or 4 weeks, but rarely do I get the luxury of going the full length needed... Life gets in the way! The pain has been with me for more than a week now but still I keep going, rest is not an option. So bogged down with medical appointments, my 40th birthday two weeks ago and just generally having to be here there and everywhere, I am seriously over doing things.
Today, again, another hospital appointment. This is a 50 mile round trip. I live in rural North Yorkshire where nothing is 'on your doorstep' except for perhaps sheep... There is a hospital that is slightly nearer but it's not a very good one, you could go in there to have a splinter removed and you could walk out dead! So I chose one slightly further way because I wanted to, you know, LIVE!
The day didn't get off to a great start, my Mum drives me to appointments and her car had broken down yesterday so the garage had lent her a car. Could she figure out that gear stick? No! Could she heckers like! Running a bit late I realised she had left the blue parking badges in the poorly car, so, 10 mile diversion back to the garage! Totally necessary as the hospital was having building work done and ONLY badge holders could park there. The whole journey was a nightmare of getting behind slow people and cries of "Where the **** is third gear" and "How do I turn these ******* wipers off" But we got there, with about two minutes to spare. We checked in only to be told the Doctor was running about 25 minutes behind, I heard my Mum mutter behind me " ******* typical" She doesn't usually swear that much!!!
It was the Neurologist today, one of my four 'Ologists', she is so lovely, far too sweet to messing about in brains in my opinion! She has an unpronounceable Italian name, so when I check in she is always Dr B. but personally I call her Doctor Bonce-Noggin... But never to her face of course, the brain docs, they're the dogs wotsits aren't they, the cream of the crop, I would never be so disrespectful. I started seeing her because I started with severe headaches about a year ago, my GP was useless and I had to fight hard for a referral. I had an MRI to rule out anything nasty, and as I have ME, so notoriously hard to diagnose, I was tested for MS and other things, just in case the ME had been misdiagnosed (something my GP should have done years ago) All was clear and she diagnosed persistent chronic migraine. A couple of goes with medications, she got the right one and I'm sorted now.
But while I was seeing her she asked me about my health in general and what I thought might help me and SHE, not my own doctor, referred me to Endocrineology who diagnosed me with diabetes (which I had probably had for years, again ignored by my GP, this delay could well be the cause of my heart disease, my diabetes is nicely under control with medication now, something I should have been having a long time ago, while the damage was being done!) and also to Rheumatology who diagnosed my fibromyalgia. I have a lot to thank Dr Bonce-Noggin for, I told her that today as she said this was our last appointment. I felt so sad to say goodbye, she is one of those rare docs, one that really listens to you... And CARES about what you say. She told me she will be in touch with my other 'Ologists' to see how I get on, especially my Cardiologist, she hugged me and I left...
Thank you Dr B.... Thank you x
Oh, by the way... Mum has got her old car back! And is £125 lighter (eeek!) now, but the silly old moo has decided she really liked the loan car! "It was easier to reverse" she said... FOR ***** SAKE!!!!
So, will I get my 'crash' tomorrow? Nope! But this is totally my fault... Now I love cricket with a passion! Always have. When I was a kid it was always on the telly (Mum loves it too) I paid attention and it stuck. Cricket is the ONLY reason I have Sky, I wouldn't bother otherwise. I will watch every single ball of a 5 day test match and then watch the highlights afterwards! Obsessed!
I never get to see much live stuff these days, it is expensive and sitting for that length of time, well, it hurts a lot. But I was 40 two weeks ago and my dear (foul mouthed) Mother bought us tickets, as a present for the England v West Indies one day game at Headingley last week. Now, this would be the third time we had tried to see these two particular teams play... The first time was in beautiful Barbados in 2009. A once in a lifetime trip after an insurance payout. A dream come true. I met Freddie Flintoff and Steve Harmison on the beach the day before the game. On the day of the game... It rained! The only day we were there that it rained was the day of the game! But, the sun did peep through in the afternoon and a few overs were bowled. We were disappointed but what the hell, we were in the Caribbean!!
Freddie Flintoff and Steve Harmison. Dover Beach Barbados. March 2009
Later the same year the West Indies came to England. Great we thought, lets go to Headingley... It rained! The drainage in the outfield wasn't working, waterlogged pitch, match abandoned! But I did meet Matt Hoggard and he signed his book for me. I met Mike Atherton and David Gower and got rather tiddley at the Cockspur Rum van on 'Pum Runch' as it came to be known, and while queuing for a hot dog nearly got knocked over by a hurried Geoffrey Boycott and yelled at the top of my voice "Oi, Boycott! SLOW DOWN!" He turned and smiled at me while the rest of the que were rolling on the floor laughing! I don't usually yell at cricket legends, I blame the Pum Runch!!
So there we were last Friday, all hopeful, thinking 'third time lucky'. Choosing to ignore the bad weather forecasts, they're never right are they? We had booked the best seats in the ground, right behind the bowlers arm, up on the balcony. This was it. Chris Gayle, the best Windies player was back in the team and hitting sixes out of the park in the last match... So exciting. The journey there was like going through a monsoon! I kept saying things like "It's a shower, it'll pass" You couldn't see! This was driving rain and flash flooding! Slowly beginning to accept reality, I thought 'Oh god, this isn't going to happen is it?' We got parked in a great spot near the ground, of course we did, no one else was stupid enough to go! We went to our seats and sat there a bit, watching the now very impressive rain flooding the pitch and thought oh sod it, lets go and get something to eat, and maybe a little drinkie poos.... RUM!
The view from our seats
There was a great atmosphere at the back of the West Stand, all the food vans (No Cockspur Rum van though... Gutted!) and there was a steel band playing, which my Mum loves, then something awesome happened, the icing on the cake of my life... There was Jimmy Anderson, the best bowler in the world, I had my photo taken with him! I was so happy. Then one minute later, the cherry on the icing on the cake of my life... There was the England One Day Captain, Alastiar Cook, again a photo and a chat... I was in heaven! By the time I got my sea legs back, it came over the loud speaker 'match abandoned', so off we went home, fairly sure we would never get the chance to see these two teams play, ever. Could be years before the West Indies tour here again, my health may be way too bad to do it by then... So very sad! But, England may well tour the West Indies next year, so if anyone wants to ease my sadness by seeing me right with a two week, 4 star, all-inclusive trip to Barbados??? Nah... Just kidding! A girl can dream though...
So tomorrow, I have tickets for a Yorkshire v Lancashire T20. A War Of The Roses Match! The weather forecast is...... I'M DOOMED!!!!!!!
I do hope this isn't making me sound like a moaning minnie???
When this pain comes, I also know it is time to stop. It means I have been doing too much and a big crash is coming. Now a 'crash' can last anywhere from 3 or 4 days to 3 or 4 weeks, but rarely do I get the luxury of going the full length needed... Life gets in the way! The pain has been with me for more than a week now but still I keep going, rest is not an option. So bogged down with medical appointments, my 40th birthday two weeks ago and just generally having to be here there and everywhere, I am seriously over doing things.
Today, again, another hospital appointment. This is a 50 mile round trip. I live in rural North Yorkshire where nothing is 'on your doorstep' except for perhaps sheep... There is a hospital that is slightly nearer but it's not a very good one, you could go in there to have a splinter removed and you could walk out dead! So I chose one slightly further way because I wanted to, you know, LIVE!
The day didn't get off to a great start, my Mum drives me to appointments and her car had broken down yesterday so the garage had lent her a car. Could she figure out that gear stick? No! Could she heckers like! Running a bit late I realised she had left the blue parking badges in the poorly car, so, 10 mile diversion back to the garage! Totally necessary as the hospital was having building work done and ONLY badge holders could park there. The whole journey was a nightmare of getting behind slow people and cries of "Where the **** is third gear" and "How do I turn these ******* wipers off" But we got there, with about two minutes to spare. We checked in only to be told the Doctor was running about 25 minutes behind, I heard my Mum mutter behind me " ******* typical" She doesn't usually swear that much!!!
It was the Neurologist today, one of my four 'Ologists', she is so lovely, far too sweet to messing about in brains in my opinion! She has an unpronounceable Italian name, so when I check in she is always Dr B. but personally I call her Doctor Bonce-Noggin... But never to her face of course, the brain docs, they're the dogs wotsits aren't they, the cream of the crop, I would never be so disrespectful. I started seeing her because I started with severe headaches about a year ago, my GP was useless and I had to fight hard for a referral. I had an MRI to rule out anything nasty, and as I have ME, so notoriously hard to diagnose, I was tested for MS and other things, just in case the ME had been misdiagnosed (something my GP should have done years ago) All was clear and she diagnosed persistent chronic migraine. A couple of goes with medications, she got the right one and I'm sorted now.
But while I was seeing her she asked me about my health in general and what I thought might help me and SHE, not my own doctor, referred me to Endocrineology who diagnosed me with diabetes (which I had probably had for years, again ignored by my GP, this delay could well be the cause of my heart disease, my diabetes is nicely under control with medication now, something I should have been having a long time ago, while the damage was being done!) and also to Rheumatology who diagnosed my fibromyalgia. I have a lot to thank Dr Bonce-Noggin for, I told her that today as she said this was our last appointment. I felt so sad to say goodbye, she is one of those rare docs, one that really listens to you... And CARES about what you say. She told me she will be in touch with my other 'Ologists' to see how I get on, especially my Cardiologist, she hugged me and I left...
Thank you Dr B.... Thank you x
Oh, by the way... Mum has got her old car back! And is £125 lighter (eeek!) now, but the silly old moo has decided she really liked the loan car! "It was easier to reverse" she said... FOR ***** SAKE!!!!
So, will I get my 'crash' tomorrow? Nope! But this is totally my fault... Now I love cricket with a passion! Always have. When I was a kid it was always on the telly (Mum loves it too) I paid attention and it stuck. Cricket is the ONLY reason I have Sky, I wouldn't bother otherwise. I will watch every single ball of a 5 day test match and then watch the highlights afterwards! Obsessed!
I never get to see much live stuff these days, it is expensive and sitting for that length of time, well, it hurts a lot. But I was 40 two weeks ago and my dear (foul mouthed) Mother bought us tickets, as a present for the England v West Indies one day game at Headingley last week. Now, this would be the third time we had tried to see these two particular teams play... The first time was in beautiful Barbados in 2009. A once in a lifetime trip after an insurance payout. A dream come true. I met Freddie Flintoff and Steve Harmison on the beach the day before the game. On the day of the game... It rained! The only day we were there that it rained was the day of the game! But, the sun did peep through in the afternoon and a few overs were bowled. We were disappointed but what the hell, we were in the Caribbean!!
Later the same year the West Indies came to England. Great we thought, lets go to Headingley... It rained! The drainage in the outfield wasn't working, waterlogged pitch, match abandoned! But I did meet Matt Hoggard and he signed his book for me. I met Mike Atherton and David Gower and got rather tiddley at the Cockspur Rum van on 'Pum Runch' as it came to be known, and while queuing for a hot dog nearly got knocked over by a hurried Geoffrey Boycott and yelled at the top of my voice "Oi, Boycott! SLOW DOWN!" He turned and smiled at me while the rest of the que were rolling on the floor laughing! I don't usually yell at cricket legends, I blame the Pum Runch!!
So there we were last Friday, all hopeful, thinking 'third time lucky'. Choosing to ignore the bad weather forecasts, they're never right are they? We had booked the best seats in the ground, right behind the bowlers arm, up on the balcony. This was it. Chris Gayle, the best Windies player was back in the team and hitting sixes out of the park in the last match... So exciting. The journey there was like going through a monsoon! I kept saying things like "It's a shower, it'll pass" You couldn't see! This was driving rain and flash flooding! Slowly beginning to accept reality, I thought 'Oh god, this isn't going to happen is it?' We got parked in a great spot near the ground, of course we did, no one else was stupid enough to go! We went to our seats and sat there a bit, watching the now very impressive rain flooding the pitch and thought oh sod it, lets go and get something to eat, and maybe a little drinkie poos.... RUM!
There was a great atmosphere at the back of the West Stand, all the food vans (No Cockspur Rum van though... Gutted!) and there was a steel band playing, which my Mum loves, then something awesome happened, the icing on the cake of my life... There was Jimmy Anderson, the best bowler in the world, I had my photo taken with him! I was so happy. Then one minute later, the cherry on the icing on the cake of my life... There was the England One Day Captain, Alastiar Cook, again a photo and a chat... I was in heaven! By the time I got my sea legs back, it came over the loud speaker 'match abandoned', so off we went home, fairly sure we would never get the chance to see these two teams play, ever. Could be years before the West Indies tour here again, my health may be way too bad to do it by then... So very sad! But, England may well tour the West Indies next year, so if anyone wants to ease my sadness by seeing me right with a two week, 4 star, all-inclusive trip to Barbados??? Nah... Just kidding! A girl can dream though...
So tomorrow, I have tickets for a Yorkshire v Lancashire T20. A War Of The Roses Match! The weather forecast is...... I'M DOOMED!!!!!!!
Wednesday, 27 June 2012
Neighbours... Everybody Needs Good Neighbours...
I'm going all 'Victor Meldrew' now! UNBELIEVABLE!! I think I have the most anal, pig ignorant neighbour in the world! Don't get me wrong, we are on speaking terms, there has, on occasion, been the odd conversation over the fence, the exchanging of Christmas cards, waves when driving past and so on. I don't dislike the man even though my secret nickname for him is 'Fanny'.
When he does things like nail bits of plastic sheeting all over his porch held up with planks of wood, to stop the sparrows nesting so they nest in mine and I have to spend weeks cleaning up tonnes of bird crap, I'm not really surprised. When he spends a fortune on a 'penis extension' power tool pressure washer thingy to clean the flags on the drive way, which we share, and doesn't go more than half an inch over on to my side at any point for the full length of the drive, yet leaves all his washed off muck on my flags, I'm not shocked.
But yesterday... Something happened I did not like! Yes, Miss Wonky got cross...
Out he was, with another enormous trouser bulging power tool, a hedge trimmer that looked like it could bring down and area of rain forest! Rather large, I thought for that small bit of hedge we share at the top of the back garden, oh well, each to their own. The next thing I know he is in MY garden, cutting MY side, that I didn't want cutting! He didn't ask, wasn't invited, just helped himself! Why stop there, why not walk into my living room and give the budgie a bath! That is MY garden!! Grrrrr.... I was in my jammies, I couldn't go out and shout 'Oi, You, What the effing hell do you think you're doing?' like I wanted to. Not wanting to get stressed (I have a dodgy ticker, this you might know, the title of my blog may have given that away!) I decided to let it go, he's a prick, I'll have to learn to live with it.
Today, still just that little bit narked, I ventured out to inspect the hedge. Not that bad I thought, and he's cleaned up the cuttings, kind of, a bit of debris... I'm over it! Then I noticed something green hanging out of my brown wheelie bin.... NOOOO.... He'd only gone and filled up MY garden waste bin with HIS cuttings!!! The collection was two days ago, they come once a month, now mine is full to the top! I have to say, I invented new swear words, I flipped, if there was anyone in the area I apologise because that was some rant I had there! And now I will have to drag this heavy bin to the road side in a few weeks, bring it back and fill it again with my stuff I will have had to put in bags because there wasn't the room.
The pure ignorance of this man though. I don't know if he thought he was doing me a favour, I can't see it, he's done nothing but cause me stress before, he probably just wanted some more time with his throbbing tool (nudge wink). He is fully aware of the fact I am very ill, he has stood and watched me being carted into the back of an ambulance, he knows I live alone, and have limited help. He knows I don't have the money for power tools, the strength to do big gardening jobs or DIY... I do not expect anyone to do things for me, but is it wrong to expect someone not to make things harder? I guess the thing that makes my blood boil the most about this man is because I am the type of person who would give him my last sandwich if I thought he was hungrier than me.
When he does things like nail bits of plastic sheeting all over his porch held up with planks of wood, to stop the sparrows nesting so they nest in mine and I have to spend weeks cleaning up tonnes of bird crap, I'm not really surprised. When he spends a fortune on a 'penis extension' power tool pressure washer thingy to clean the flags on the drive way, which we share, and doesn't go more than half an inch over on to my side at any point for the full length of the drive, yet leaves all his washed off muck on my flags, I'm not shocked.
But yesterday... Something happened I did not like! Yes, Miss Wonky got cross...
Out he was, with another enormous trouser bulging power tool, a hedge trimmer that looked like it could bring down and area of rain forest! Rather large, I thought for that small bit of hedge we share at the top of the back garden, oh well, each to their own. The next thing I know he is in MY garden, cutting MY side, that I didn't want cutting! He didn't ask, wasn't invited, just helped himself! Why stop there, why not walk into my living room and give the budgie a bath! That is MY garden!! Grrrrr.... I was in my jammies, I couldn't go out and shout 'Oi, You, What the effing hell do you think you're doing?' like I wanted to. Not wanting to get stressed (I have a dodgy ticker, this you might know, the title of my blog may have given that away!) I decided to let it go, he's a prick, I'll have to learn to live with it.
Today, still just that little bit narked, I ventured out to inspect the hedge. Not that bad I thought, and he's cleaned up the cuttings, kind of, a bit of debris... I'm over it! Then I noticed something green hanging out of my brown wheelie bin.... NOOOO.... He'd only gone and filled up MY garden waste bin with HIS cuttings!!! The collection was two days ago, they come once a month, now mine is full to the top! I have to say, I invented new swear words, I flipped, if there was anyone in the area I apologise because that was some rant I had there! And now I will have to drag this heavy bin to the road side in a few weeks, bring it back and fill it again with my stuff I will have had to put in bags because there wasn't the room.
The pure ignorance of this man though. I don't know if he thought he was doing me a favour, I can't see it, he's done nothing but cause me stress before, he probably just wanted some more time with his throbbing tool (nudge wink). He is fully aware of the fact I am very ill, he has stood and watched me being carted into the back of an ambulance, he knows I live alone, and have limited help. He knows I don't have the money for power tools, the strength to do big gardening jobs or DIY... I do not expect anyone to do things for me, but is it wrong to expect someone not to make things harder? I guess the thing that makes my blood boil the most about this man is because I am the type of person who would give him my last sandwich if I thought he was hungrier than me.
Is Gideon A Perv? Big Hair And Shall I Get The Dyson Out?
I was watching George Osborne yesterday, yet another 'well timed' U-turn, this time on fuel prices, call me cynical, paranoid, whatever, but these U-turns do seem to come the day after something so outrageous from the PM, like 'Sod the under 25's, you don't need houses, camping under bridges is fun!'. They come back with something that makes them look so kind, like they are doing us a great favour, in the hope we will forget the bullpoop spouted the day before... I'm just not that stupid.
I wonder if they ever intended to put 3p on the price of fuel, or they were just keeping the idea as a tool to fan the flames of yet another giant cock-up... Just like pasties and caravans before. Or is it because fuel prices are actually falling at the moment and it wouldn't be evil enough to put an extra 3p right now, 'Let's wait till they're sky high again Dave, then we'll bang on the extra, that'll piss 'em off'.
But mostly I look at George Osborne and wonder if he is a pervert! I can't say I've ever met one, I might have, I just don't know! But, I have this image of what a pervert looks like in my head, and George fits that picture perfectly! Don't ask me why! Why? I hear you ask... As I look at that Cabinet of pure evil, George just doesn't seem to fit. The rest look like they want to do you harm, they have, and then some! Their horns and tails are in full view, but not George, he just looks like he wants to feel you up, or tie you up! He is slimy, snake like, a bush lingerer... He gives me the creeps! Pure and simple! I will go all out and predict a major sex scandal involving that man in the future, I can feel it in my water!
So, what about me today? Well, it's not a great day. I'm mobile but high on pain killers, every step is like wading trough treacle in lead wellies, but at least it's not a bed day! And not one angina attack today! (Always looking on the bright side!) I am very worried about my hair though, it is really humid today and my thick, long, blonde, curly hair has gone massive, seriously, it's HUGE! I look like an 80's Glam Rock Band! It's not that bigger deal in the grand scheme of things, I don't have to go anywhere till tomorrow (Back to hospital, Neurologist appointment, I'm collecting 'ologists', four at the last count!) but if I have to answer the door, if I can get through the door with this giant mop on my head, I may scare people into thinking I have been electrocuted!!
I really should be doing things, the floor is messy, wood floors are great but open a door to let a bit of air in and the dust bunnies escape from under the sofa and roll across the floor like tumble weed in the desert! Maybe just one more brew and I'll think about thinking about getting the Dyson out...
I wonder if they ever intended to put 3p on the price of fuel, or they were just keeping the idea as a tool to fan the flames of yet another giant cock-up... Just like pasties and caravans before. Or is it because fuel prices are actually falling at the moment and it wouldn't be evil enough to put an extra 3p right now, 'Let's wait till they're sky high again Dave, then we'll bang on the extra, that'll piss 'em off'.
But mostly I look at George Osborne and wonder if he is a pervert! I can't say I've ever met one, I might have, I just don't know! But, I have this image of what a pervert looks like in my head, and George fits that picture perfectly! Don't ask me why! Why? I hear you ask... As I look at that Cabinet of pure evil, George just doesn't seem to fit. The rest look like they want to do you harm, they have, and then some! Their horns and tails are in full view, but not George, he just looks like he wants to feel you up, or tie you up! He is slimy, snake like, a bush lingerer... He gives me the creeps! Pure and simple! I will go all out and predict a major sex scandal involving that man in the future, I can feel it in my water!
So, what about me today? Well, it's not a great day. I'm mobile but high on pain killers, every step is like wading trough treacle in lead wellies, but at least it's not a bed day! And not one angina attack today! (Always looking on the bright side!) I am very worried about my hair though, it is really humid today and my thick, long, blonde, curly hair has gone massive, seriously, it's HUGE! I look like an 80's Glam Rock Band! It's not that bigger deal in the grand scheme of things, I don't have to go anywhere till tomorrow (Back to hospital, Neurologist appointment, I'm collecting 'ologists', four at the last count!) but if I have to answer the door, if I can get through the door with this giant mop on my head, I may scare people into thinking I have been electrocuted!!
I really should be doing things, the floor is messy, wood floors are great but open a door to let a bit of air in and the dust bunnies escape from under the sofa and roll across the floor like tumble weed in the desert! Maybe just one more brew and I'll think about thinking about getting the Dyson out...
Tuesday, 26 June 2012
NHS Butter, Chernobyl Leftovers And Looking For Somewhere To Vomit
A Big thick letter comes from Harrogate Hospital. 'Here we go' I thought, 'Dear Miss Wonky (Not my real name), You have been booked in to Nuclear Medicine for two Isotope Heart Scans. One at the butt-crack of dawn on Thursday and the other slightly later (by 1 hour) on Monday (I really don't do mornings) Here is your list of instructions... This letter will self-destruct in ten seconds'. It didn't say that really, I like to add a bit of drama! I mean 'Isotope' It all sounds a bit James Bond doesn't it?
There was page after page of things to do and not to do before, during and after the scans, but the bit that kept popping up was 'You will be given bread and butter to eat and a glass of milk to drink before your scan'... OH NOOOO!!! Never in my life have I been able to eat dairy products, it is not an allergy it is just taste. Milk, butter, cheese, cream (gips) I can't do it! I'm okay about eating cows, I just can't cope with the white stuff that leaks from them! Not a bit worried about the fact they are going to pump my veins full of radioactive gloop, probably swept up off the floor from Chernobyl (they'll give the good stuff to the private patients, us NHS types will get the cheaper dodgy stuff), or stressed about the pain in my limbs caused by the journey or the sitting and waiting, the length of the appointments, the fact I will have to avoid sleeping the night before or I won't be able to mobilise in the morning within enough time to get there...I wasn't even thinking about the results of these tests for christs sake! None of that was in my head, just bread, butter and milk (gips again).
So off I pop. Hoping that there was maybe a way round the situation, maybe I could just have the bread and a glass of water, I could always ask. Walking down the corridor to the department I swear I could smell it... MILK! Little beads of sweat formed on my top lip as I saw a trolley in the waiting area, ready prepared plates of bread with the thickest layer of what looked like margarine, and plastic bottles of full fat milk!! My desire to run like Usain Bolt was overwhelming, but the body said 'NO'. My feet were stuck to the spot, dumbstruck, someone was calling 'Miss Wonky, Miss Wonky (Really, not my real name)' I woke from my utter gobsmackedness, I was being called in already, I had to be here, I couldn't leave, but there could still be a way round this trolley from hell yet.
I go into a small room with a friendly looking male nurse carrying a lead box (that must be the Chernobyl gloop) he asked me a few questions like, had I had anything to eat or drink? Had I taken my medication? Had any caffeine? I passed all that and out came a syringe with another lead casing round it with paint peeling off it, it looked so dirty, but was reassured it was safe... SAFE? I was wondering if I would glow in the dark later, or when I went home all my plants would die as I walked past them! The needle went in, no fainting (this has happened in the past), not much pain, all is well... Then comes the big bit "Now Miss Wonky (Still not my real name but I like it that much now I'm thinking of changing it by deed poll), you have to eat the bread and butter and milk and then sit for an hour before the scan starts" I ask if there is any way I could skip the milk and butter as I don't eat dairy, only to be told "No, it is needed to make the scan effective, it has to be done or we won't be able to continue with the test. There is some jam and marmalade if this will make it easier to eat." I am nearly crying at this point, I feel like I'm 5 years old again and in the school dinner hall, I just had a big bowl of that frog spawn pudding put down in front of me and there is an evil looking dinner lady, hovering, scowling, with her arms folded, watching me suffer through every nightmarish spoonful (shudders). I ask if it is margarine, the nurse says "no, it's butter... NHS butter". I think, what the effin heck is NHS butter? What makes it different from normal butter? Do they churn the milk from the nipples of NHS managers? (my head does work in strange ways, I worry about myself sometimes) Then I find out when I take my first bite...
URGHHHHHH!!!! OH! DEAR! GOD! Where can I puke? Where can I puke? The loo was way back down the long corridor. Oh, look, there's a bin! NO, I can't throw up there in front of these poor unsuspecting poorly people... There is only one thing for it, I remove my phone from my handbag, instant vomit bowl, sorted! Oh wait, I don't need it, first mouthful has gone down, I'm gipping, but I made it. I head back to the trolley for some jam, and lots of it. Now I have the sound of my diabetes nurse tutting in my head but sod her right? She's not here! I am about to die, needs must! I spread, no, I spoon several jam sachets on the bread and wedges of NHS butter and keep on going, sooner this is over the better, I'm feeling braver now I have the jam. I'm washing it down with the full fat milk, to my surprise this wasn't the worst bit, the NHS butter took away all the taste of the milk. Still, I had tears rolling down my red face the size of marrowfat peas, my handbag come vomit bowl ready at my feet, holding my nose while chewing with my mouth open in the hope it would help somehow... And really hoping there wasn't a cctv camera nearby so I wouldn't end up on Youtube!
Several torturous minutes later, it was over! I did it! I was traumatised but slowly returning to normal. I put my plate away, hid the couple of dozen empty jam sachets in a napkin and threw them in the bin which was almost my vomit receptacle. Ahhhh.. Now I can relax, WRONG! As other people were going in to the little room with the male nurse, they were coming back out to sit with me in the tiny intimate area with the comfy chairs I had previously had all to myself, I was the first appointment that morning, I now had to sit there and watch everybody else eat their way through a plate full of evil! I took my phone out of my handbag... Again!
Nobody enjoyed it, even the ones who said "I don't mind a bit of bread and butter" were struggling. It was a good thing in a way, it started off a lovely conversation in that waiting area, we ended up having a great time, we all agreed that if we had to eat some thing so unhealthy, we were all probably there because we had done too much of that in the first place, couldn't it be something good like a full english and a pint of beer! But not NHS beer, god knows what they'd make that from! What was also good was we all had the same appointments for Monday, so we would meet again. The downside, and it's a big un, we all had to do the milk, bread and the good old NHS butter, all over again!!!
ANGINA?? I'm 39, my Grandad had angina, it's an old blokes disease!
So I explain this strange chest pain to my GP, 'It's a rising burning pain that comes from the centre of my chest into my neck and jaw and then into my shoulders and upper arms. It lasts a few minutes and then goes away' He asked me what are you doing when it come on, 'It happened after a meal, I thought it was bad indigestion so I took a gaviscon, then it happened after climbing the stairs and hanging a bit of washing up'. 'Sounds like classic angina' he said! 'ANGINA?? I'm 39, my Grandad had angina, it's an old blokes disease!'.
I remembered back to when I was 16, straight out of school and went to work in the local pub kitchen. Lunchtimes were a row of older chaps sat round the bar, putting the world to rights (I learned so much from those guys, more than I ever did in school, such happy memories of them) but I'll never forget the odd GTN spray on the bar, right next to pint of beer and whiskey chaser. I spent the next few years going to far too many funerals, these men weren't healthy, they ate all the wrong things, were overweight, they drank and smoked... Then I looked at me and thought, SHIT! I'm just the same! A lot younger, yes, female, with other conditions, but I hadn't done myself any favours either.
I looked for excuses, I have had ME and Fibromyalgia for several years, unable to exercise, not that I did much before. Recently diagnosed with diabetes, nicely under control with medication now and I even managed to lose two stone with a diet overhaul, pretty good for someone who can't move much! I had suffered from bad depression on and off for most of my adult life and spent long periods cooped up with agoraphobia and self confidence was non existent, the gym was out of the question. But in between the bad spells I had always worked hard or studied, usually both. My diet wasn't horrendously bad, normal I would say, a little over weight at times, usually when I went on the contraceptive pill. I did like the odd binge in the beer department, but wasn't a constant drinker, not addicted... But I had smoked, for a lot of years, this was an addiction I never had control of. My problem was I had never had a smoking related illness, no chest infections or bad coughs, neither had any of my family who smoked, smoking wasn't hurting me. I chose to ignore the warnings on the packets, in the adverts and the leaflets, I was fine, I just wasn't scared enough to quit. Mistake? Hell yes!
My GP was ace, never put any pressure on me, I assured him I would give up. I told him I had cut down by two thirds for now till my head is in the right place to stop fully, he understood this, he said the stress of quitting could do me more harm the the few fags I'm still smoking at the moment. Some Doctors don't do this, tell them you haven't quite managed to stop yet and they give you that look like they want to strangle you with their bare hands. When I was diagnosed with diabetes I had to give up sugar, salt, fat, caffeine, sugary drinks, alcohol, eat more fruit and veg, smaller regular meals... I had no problem doing this (Though I do still have the occasional treat like a bit of chocolate or a bag of crisps... What??? I'm a woman!!) I found it remarkably easy, but smoking, damn it, that is the hard one. Someone once said that giving up smoking is as hard as giving up heroin, I'll never know if this is true, but as my best friend said to me yesterday "If I can do it so can you" Oh I don't know flower, you are so much stronger than me... In every way!
Tomorrow is the day I have chosen to start to stop. I have just bought myself one of those electric cigarettes... I will let you know how it goes!
I remembered back to when I was 16, straight out of school and went to work in the local pub kitchen. Lunchtimes were a row of older chaps sat round the bar, putting the world to rights (I learned so much from those guys, more than I ever did in school, such happy memories of them) but I'll never forget the odd GTN spray on the bar, right next to pint of beer and whiskey chaser. I spent the next few years going to far too many funerals, these men weren't healthy, they ate all the wrong things, were overweight, they drank and smoked... Then I looked at me and thought, SHIT! I'm just the same! A lot younger, yes, female, with other conditions, but I hadn't done myself any favours either.
I looked for excuses, I have had ME and Fibromyalgia for several years, unable to exercise, not that I did much before. Recently diagnosed with diabetes, nicely under control with medication now and I even managed to lose two stone with a diet overhaul, pretty good for someone who can't move much! I had suffered from bad depression on and off for most of my adult life and spent long periods cooped up with agoraphobia and self confidence was non existent, the gym was out of the question. But in between the bad spells I had always worked hard or studied, usually both. My diet wasn't horrendously bad, normal I would say, a little over weight at times, usually when I went on the contraceptive pill. I did like the odd binge in the beer department, but wasn't a constant drinker, not addicted... But I had smoked, for a lot of years, this was an addiction I never had control of. My problem was I had never had a smoking related illness, no chest infections or bad coughs, neither had any of my family who smoked, smoking wasn't hurting me. I chose to ignore the warnings on the packets, in the adverts and the leaflets, I was fine, I just wasn't scared enough to quit. Mistake? Hell yes!
My GP was ace, never put any pressure on me, I assured him I would give up. I told him I had cut down by two thirds for now till my head is in the right place to stop fully, he understood this, he said the stress of quitting could do me more harm the the few fags I'm still smoking at the moment. Some Doctors don't do this, tell them you haven't quite managed to stop yet and they give you that look like they want to strangle you with their bare hands. When I was diagnosed with diabetes I had to give up sugar, salt, fat, caffeine, sugary drinks, alcohol, eat more fruit and veg, smaller regular meals... I had no problem doing this (Though I do still have the occasional treat like a bit of chocolate or a bag of crisps... What??? I'm a woman!!) I found it remarkably easy, but smoking, damn it, that is the hard one. Someone once said that giving up smoking is as hard as giving up heroin, I'll never know if this is true, but as my best friend said to me yesterday "If I can do it so can you" Oh I don't know flower, you are so much stronger than me... In every way!
Tomorrow is the day I have chosen to start to stop. I have just bought myself one of those electric cigarettes... I will let you know how it goes!
RIP Karen Sherlock
Today is the day of Karen Sherlock's funeral. I didn't know this lady but I had seen many of her posts and comments in various groups on Facebook for quite some time. Kaliya Franklin wrote of her;
"Karen Sherlock was just an ordinary woman. She didn’t have a great deal of money, her health meant she didn’t get many opportunities to go out, particularly not anywhere you might have seen her, and even if you did you wouldn’t have given her another thought. Just another woman in middle age as invisible as all women past a certain age become.
I threw myself into the lions den yesterday. After getting the results from my two myocardial perfusion heart scans, which came back abnormal, I phoned the DWP to inform them of my new illness. Not that this will make any difference to them, I get the right amount of DLA (this was confirmed by an at home assessment by an Atos Doctor last September, after some utter git had falsely reported me for benefit fraud out of spite, and saw fit to put me through absolute hell!) and my care and mobility needs have not changed, this is just another illness to add to the long, long list of illnesses. But, these results mean that my angina has become unstable. To have angina at 40 years old is very rare, for it to become unstable is kind of scary. It means that the blood flow to my heart is restricted when resting and when active. While I am waiting the few weeks for the next step which is the angiogram/angioplasty the ultimate rule is 'NO STRESS' so maybe ringing the DWP was not a good idea but it had to be done. Like I said, I have not had my Atos grilling yet as I get income support, not incapacity benefit (they are just getting round to us now), and unstable angina is one of the few conditions which mean you are exempt from attending an interview. The fact that my other conditions leave me virtually house/bedbound and in constant, excruciating pain, slightly incontinent, confused, at great risk of injury from falling, with massive anxiety, and overwhelming fatigue, matters not! So, I asked them if we could do this in a way to cause me the least stress possible (hahaha) If the condition could just be added to my file without the stress of a lengthy form or another at home Atos Doctor, I was willing to send a report from my Cardiologist or GP to confirm the diagnosis, surely this would be better for me and cheaper for them... BUT NO! It seems there will have to be the drama of the forms and assessment, no doubt however I sent them in, recorded, registered, pigeon, they will be lost or denied. So here is the race, who will kill me first? The DWP? Atos? Or will my wonky heart beat them all to it?
I want to share my experience with you, help you where I can if you are going through a similar situation. People like Karen inspire me to do more. Just like her, I am frightened though will never sit here and feel sorry for myself... Let's make Karen proud.
RIP Karen Sherlock. Fly with the angels lovely lady x
"Karen Sherlock was just an ordinary woman. She didn’t have a great deal of money, her health meant she didn’t get many opportunities to go out, particularly not anywhere you might have seen her, and even if you did you wouldn’t have given her another thought. Just another woman in middle age as invisible as all women past a certain age become.
But Karen had another life, one in which she was recognised for her courage and determination to stand up for the rights of all sick and disabled people subject to the Work Capability Assessment. You might not have noticed Karen, but had you paid attention you would have seen the story of an utterly remarkable woman, who’s experiences typify the disconnect between the reality of sick and disabled people’s lives and the blunt instrument employed by the state to rule if we are ‘fit for work'."
I can't quite explain why her death has touched me so much, maybe it is because I see myself going in a similar fashion. I am yet to be murdered by Atos, I'm not on the 'French Mafia hit list' yet, but the fear I feel is all too real. From the stories I read, my illness(es) do not matter, my head could be hanging off by one last bit of stringy muscle and I'd still be found 'fit for work'... After all, my ear would be that much closer to my hand, answering a phone would be a doddle, a career in a call centre beckons me thinks!
Another thing I can't explain is why I have started a blog! I'm not really the type (whatever that is?) I don't crave attention or fame, I'm actually quite shy. I have been on Facebook a while and ventured on to Twitter on occasion, I'm not good with the spelling and grammar thing, didn't have the best education, not very confident and often find it hard to put my thoughts into words (why the hell am I doing this??) but I am about to start a bit of a journey, I think, could be good, could be bad, I don't know. I just thought writing it down might see me through it and hopefully keep me sane (it's a fine line!). I love to make people laugh, so as I go through this journey I'll always find a funny side, I hope you'll join me? After all, laughter is the best medicine!
I want to share my experience with you, help you where I can if you are going through a similar situation. People like Karen inspire me to do more. Just like her, I am frightened though will never sit here and feel sorry for myself... Let's make Karen proud.
RIP Karen Sherlock. Fly with the angels lovely lady x
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